


A Tale of Marble and Magic

by rubyofkukundu



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell & Related Fandoms, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Anal Sex, Dildos, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation Interruptus, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Magic, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:02:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25791796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyofkukundu/pseuds/rubyofkukundu
Summary: "Just one moment with my marble phallus," thought Mr Segundus to himself on that second night. "Just one moment will not hurt. After all, there are no students present and Mr Childermass and Vinculus are on the other side of the house. No-one would notice were I to seek a little enjoyment now."
Relationships: John Childermass/John Segundus
Comments: 34
Kudos: 79





	A Tale of Marble and Magic

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This story contains spoilers for the end of the book.

Dear readers, tonight I must tell you a tale of Mr John Segundus of Yorkshire.

Mr Segundus, as you may know, was a quiet man with a simple life. He had his magical studies, writing his magical papers, and he had his magical school, teaching his magical pupils, and that was almost as much as he wished for.

Magicians are often known to be an argumentative race but Mr Segundus, I am happy to say, did not fit that mould. Why, he had no wish to discomfort anybody, nor surprise anybody, nor make anybody feel in the least uneasy. Indeed, all he strove to do was to inspire in others a little enthusiasm for his favourite subject.

Yet were one to pry slightly deeper into the life of Mr Segundus one might indeed become discomforted, or surprised, or made uneasy; at least, someone of a stern and disapproving character might feel so. For us, dear readers, being not so much of the moralising sort, we might ourselves look more kindly upon the discoveries that are to be made in this tale (if kindness is the word for it, though I think that maybe it is not).

But we are getting ahead of ourselves. Let us start from the beginning.

When Mr Segundus had been living in London, which was, oh, some decade ago or more, he had chanced upon a certain establishment. Now, this certain establishment was filled with a certain type of person, which persons happened to engage in a certain sort of activity.

I will not be coy with you here. The activity was, in a word, sodomy; the people sodomites; and the establishment not to be named in polite society.

Mr Segundus' happening upon this place was, unsurprisingly, a rather educational event, and he left London very much a wiser (and perhaps a more content) man than before.

In the subsequent ten years or thereabouts Mr Segundus did not, alas, seek to enter any other such establishment nor to meet any other such company. For, you see, York in which he found himself was smaller than London and talk there would spread quickly if a gentleman were not particularly careful. This lack of "company", however, did not make Mr Segundus so downhearted as you might think, for he had one consolation, which was this:

A purchase, made in that very London establishment on a day in which he had been feeling very bold. The purchase was made of marble, almost lifelike in size (though perhaps somewhat larger), and very much lifelike in shape: from the smooth crown, to the rigid shaft, and at its base the most even and splendid pair of ballocks you ever did see.

Such an object, as you might imagine, proved a great source of comfort to Mr Segundus over the years and Mr Segundus was for a good while contented. (And, truly, who would not be contented to enjoy such length and girth in one's private places whenever one wished?)

At first, it must be admitted, Mr Segundus was a little nervous to make use of his purchase: his marble phallus, if you will (for we must name it or we will not get very far at all). It was not quite like a man's piece (being cold and solid and of a size) and there was some difficulty in getting it seated (for which purpose Mr Segundus had discovered that an expensive store of olive oil was very helpful, but when he could not afford such luxury he made do with butter or lard).

But are we not all uncertain and tentative when we study some skill for the first time? Doubtless, no-one ever expects a girl to thread a needle on her first attempt, nor a blacksmith's boy to shoe a horse. Thus it was the same with this. Mr Segundus took much time in learning the best way to take the phallus inside himself and to produce those pleasant sensations which such an object ought to herald. Happily, practice makes for skillful hands, and soon Mr Segundus had become quite the master of this particular activity.

This little success, however, is not where our tale ends. Indeed, it is only the start.

You see, time passed on and Mr Segundus then found himself the master of a school of magic at a place called Starecross Hall. He took his phallus with him to Starecross, of course, and even made use of it in this new home of his, though there are doubtless certain cautions that one must take when one is head of an educational establishment filled with many people.

Indeed, Mr Segundus found it convenient to keep his phallus locked away in a personal cupboard for most of the year, and he only took it out when term was ended and the house empty save for a few servants. Then, in this more private time, was Mr Segundus bold, and for several weeks together he would spend the evenings enjoying himself most thoroughly.

Mr Segundus' skill in the use of his phallus had only increased throughout the years. Of particular significance in this matter was the return of magic to England and Mr Segundus' sudden graduation from a theoretical to a practical magician. (I must ask you not to be confused here, dear readers, for I shall make all clear, by and by.)

Doing magic for the first time was rather surprising (for Mr Segundus had first used magic to disenchant a lady, which is a very surprising thing, as I am sure you will agree). Yet once the surprise of his initial magicianship had worn off, Mr Segundus soon learned to perform other spells, and then to invent other spells, and finally to incorporate such spells into his daily life.

Spellcasting, I must tell you, is not the easy business that magicians like to boast of. Oh, certainly, some people can conjure an apparition with little more than a "Halloo!" and a clap of the hands, but for many people magic engages a little more of the faculties.

Mr Segundus was one of those to whom magic was not easy; by which I do not mean that he was unable to perform spells, nor that he was in any way slow at learning them, but rather that spellcasting was to him a taxing business, as if the spell had presented a bill to his mind or his body that must be paid. Why, there was not one spell that did not make him feel a little dizzy, or a little woozy, or a great deal discombobulated. He was not particularly troubled or concerned by this effect, you must realise, but he was required to learn how to cope with the inconveniences.

Learn Mr Segundus did (have we not already seen that he is quick to learn many things?) and soon he had happily turned spellcasting, and its effects, to something of an art.

Now, I say that Mr Segundus had begun to incorporate spells into his daily life, and you must believe me. He used the spells in the classroom, and in the dining room, and when walking on the moors. He also (and here we must hide our blushes) brought magic into the bedchamber.

Mr Segundus had discovered, you see, that while the casting of some spells left him slow and confused, the casting of others had quite a different effect upon his senses. Indeed, he found that if the spell was small and intended to work upon his person, or the air about his person, or the room in which he sat, then it could cause quite a frisson of delight. (Were anyone to ask him about this, and were he inclined to answer, he might have described the feeling as a warmth, or a tingling in the limbs, or a caress upon the skin.)

Let us not be too nice about the matter. To put it plainly: Mr Segundus had found that the judicious casting of certain spells while he was locked in his private rooms could lead to such a state of carnal excitement that he was brought almost to the cusp of an enthusiastic release.

(There now. Did I not say that I would make all clear, by and by?)

Well, Mr Segundus became quite as adept at these spells as he was with everything else. Soon, during those times when term was ended and he granted some peace from his students, Mr Segundus found that he was making use of these spells regularly. And oh! what joy there was to be had in combining his spellcasting and his marble phallus together! For, you see, Mr Segundus was not one of those happy men who could reach their climax from sodomy alone. No indeed; something more was always required, and while Mr Segundus knew very well that a palm would suffice, he quickly discovered that the use of spells could have the same effect.

What a wonderful thing! Carnal magics and a marble phallus: neither able to reach that pinnacle of ecstasy alone, but when used together... ! My, what a trembling, building, erupting sort of an experience that was! On those occasions when Mr Segundus employed both the magic and the phallus together he was left spent and breathless and, shockingly, (through some effect of the magic, no doubt) able to perform the whole thing all over again immediately, should he wish to.

Yes, dear readers, I know. But unlikely as it sounds that is the way it was. Now, please, our tale does not finish here, so you must grant me leave to continue.

On this particular night then (it being a warm one in August) Mr Segundus, with Starecross free from the students, bethought himself to take up his phallus and his spells and put them to good use. This was not particularly unusual for an August night with the house all abed, as we have seen, but it was slightly different on this night, for on this night Mr Segundus had guests visiting.

These guests were one Vinculus (vagabond and book) and one John Childermass (former servant and now magician). They had been visiting for, oh, the past week or so, and during their visit much work had been done on reading the book that was Vinculus and translating his text into something comprehensible. (And if you wish me to explain more about these studies, I am afraid you must be disappointed, for this tale I am telling is a very particular one and not to be lengthened by a treatise upon languages).

Thus Vinculus and Childermass had been visiting, and Mr Segundus had been playing host, and all had been going rather well, with good company and fruitful work.

Normally, as you would imagine, Mr Segundus would not think to make use of his phallus and his spells when guests were present, for it seemed to him a rather risky business and an impolite one besides. Yet on this occasion there was nothing to be done. It was hot, and the days were slow, and Childermass had taken to unbuttoning his shirt cuffs and rolling his sleeves up to his elbows while he worked. Such a sight could perhaps have been weathered by Mr Segundus in former times, but now he found it could not.

You would realise how difficult a thing it was to withstand had you met Childermass for yourself. He was a sly man, and clever, with quick, dark eyes and quick, flashing smiles and a long, ragged fall of hair that he would sweep over one shoulder when leaning over his work. Oh, he was not _handsome_ , if we are to be strict about the term, but just because a person is not handsome it does not mean that he is not _desirable_.

Childermass had lean limbs with an amount of strength to them, and a way of moving which suggested he was in perfect mastery of said limbs at all times. Besides which, there was an arrogance to his movements: a self-satisfied sense of purpose in his gait and his gestures that was, for its lack of formality, rather intimate.

How would you fare, dear readers, when working alongside Childermass, with his thin face and his dark eyes and his long nose, with his confidence and his arrogance and his intimate ease. How would you fare, I say, to then discover that Childermass' forearms, with his sleeves now rolled up, were covered in hair as dark as that on his head, his wrists neat and strong, and his hands altogether capable?

I dare say you wouldn't fare very well at all.

Mr Segundus certainly did not. Each visit of Childermass and Vinculus (for they visited often) seemed harder to bear than the last, with Childermass growing more enticing by the day. Yet Mr Segundus had kept his composure throughout the years of their acquaintance and had acted in nothing but a professional manner. Until, that is, this visit started: until the heat (as aforesaid) and Childermasss' forearms (also as aforesaid) had combined together to drive Mr Segundus into something of a frenzy.

Why, during the first night of their visit Mr Segundus had been able to control himself, but by the second he was quite mad with distraction.

"Just one moment with my marble phallus," thought Mr Segundus to himself on that second night. "Just one moment will not hurt. After all, there are no students present and Mr Childermass and Vinculus are on the other side of the house. No-one would notice were I to seek a little enjoyment now."

Enjoy himself Mr Segundus did. He set his phallus to work (thinking, perhaps, of one not made from marble but from flesh) and added a spell of lubrication to ease the way (for he had come to learn that neither the expense of butter, nor lard, nor even olive oil were needed when one had perfected such a spell instead). This spell had the happy effect, as it always did, of causing Mr Segundus to tingle from his head to his toes and his private member to feel rather elated. It was not long afterwards, therefore, that Mr Segundus made a pleasant end to the business.

Well, with such a success as that, is it any wonder that Mr Segundus performed the same thing the next night? Though perhaps we ought not to call it "the same thing" for the next night he added yet more spells so that he might enjoy himself the better.

This, again, was concluded pleasantly (a great deal more than pleasantly, if I am to tell the truth) and so the next night Mr Segundus added more spells, and then the night after that yet more still. Indeed, so many spells did Mr Segundus use by this juncture that he found he could continue on with his phallus for two or three times in a night without stopping.

The result of such usage had left Mr Segundus rather tired, I must admit, for the nights in August are only so long and there is not much sleep to be had if one is engaged in vigorous activity for a good part of the time. Mr Segundus had worried that his sleepiness during the days would cause concern or confusion amongst his guests, but happily it was so hot that not anyone in the house slept well, and so no-one seemed to notice that Mr Segundus was tired also.

Poor Childermass appeared to find the heat the hardest to bear of all the occupants of Starecross Hall, for he looked tireder and tireder as the days passed. Not to mention, as the heat increased, so did the number of clothes that Childermass wore decrease until he was quite a sight to see with no coat nor waistcoat nor stockings on at all, his hair all in disarray, and on his cheeks a flush of pink.

Mr Segundus apologised very much for the heat of the house and ordered cold drinks and open windows and fresh walks to ease his guests, but to Childermass none of these things seemed to make the least difference.

Ah well. There is little a host can do about the weather, no matter how much comfort he might wish for his visitors, so Mr Segundus did not worry about it unduly. Instead he continued on about his research during the day and about his other endeavours during the night. Indeed, the more flushed and flustered was Childermass' appearance during the day, the more enthusiasm Mr Segundus found he had once he had retired to his bedchamber of an evening.

Thus things stood and so they continued on, as they did on this night also.

Why, on this night, were we to have peered past Mr Segundus' locked chamber door (and do not be alarmed, dear readers, to pry in this way, for as the readers of this tale it is your prerogative to investigate every detail) we would have found him laid out on his bed and busy at his work.

He had removed all of his clothes, for it was hot and, what was more, his nakedness made it all the easier to seat the marble phallus inside of himself, which he was at that moment doing (and indeed had been doing for some minutes past). Of spells, he had cast first the one, of lubrication, and had then cast two more in quick succession: to cool the air of his room, and then to heat it again.

Oh, with what eagerness his private piece had come to attention through such treatment! It was hard and flushed and bobbed a little as Mr Segundus thrust the phallus inside himself.

He fancied that another spell might do him very well, and so he whispered one that would brush his hair away from his eyes and, oh, he bit his lip as it took effect. _Yes._ His toes were beginning to curl, and he thrust the phallus harder.

My, just how undressed Childermass had been that day! Childermass had not worn a neckcloth, you see, so it had been possible to spy his throat, shining as it was in the heat, and Mr Segundus had longed for it. (He had longed for it very dearly indeed.) Oh, how might the rest of Childermass' body shine also were he to remove more clothes! And what things might that disrobing reveal!

Mr Segundus thrust the phallus again, his chest now red and he stretching out his neck at the feeling of being so full. Oh, to be filled so by Childermass! Oh to be fucked (if you will excuse the term) by such a man! Oh! Oh! Mr Segundus was drawing now closer to his end, and he fancied that once done he might like to start all over again, for who would not wish to be fucked by Childermass for a second time if one had the chance? Mr Segundus' toes curled further, his legs straining, and there came a knock upon his chamber door.

A terrible silence ensued.

Stricken, Mr Segundus paused in his actions, his heart all a-flutter and his marble phallus still seated where a gentleman ought not to place it. Had that truly been a knock upon the door? Or had Mr Segundus merely imagined it? Why, all was now silence, so perhaps it was merely... The knock repeated itself, a little louder than before, and Mr Segundus nearly cried out.

He hastily removed the phallus from inside himself with shaking hands (more hastily than was truly comfortable, if we are to be honest). "Who..." Mr Segundus affected a yawn, and tried to sound as one who has just woken. "Who is it?"

"Childermass," said Childermass.

Mr Segundus had to stifle a cry for a second time. "One... One moment," he said, then jumped up from his bed and panicked.

Trembling, Mr Segundus quickly straightened the bedcovers so they did not look as if the bed had been used for untoward purposes, but then he remembered that he was supposed to have been sleeping in it, and so the bedclothes were rumpled again. Next came the question of what to do with the marble phallus (that most incriminating of objects!) Mr Segundus thrust it under the bed, onto a blanket that was lying upon the floor there. Alas, however, the blanket was not as thick as Mr Segundus had presumed it to be and the phallus made a thunking noise as it was set down. Mr Segundus panicked further.

For himself, Mr Segundus threw on his nightshirt to cover his nakedness, then looked down himself and realised that while his skin might be hidden, the eagerness of his private piece (for it had not yet flagged) was not. Quickly, Mr Segundus tugged his dressing gown on over his nightshirt and arranged the folds of both so that it would be difficult (or so he hoped) to discover the shape of his person beneath them.

Was he red in the face? Mr Segundus felt his cheeks with his hands. Well, perhaps he could say he was red from sleep, for it was a hot night. And, thankfully, the small rushlight on the mantelpiece, being the only light in the room, was weak enough that it was not so easy to make out the colour of anything.

Thus, as respectable as he ever could hope to be in such a situation, Mr Segundus unlocked his chamber door and opened it.

Without the chamber stood Childermass. Yet that was not all, for Childermass was holding a wax candle, which threw such a sudden light onto the scene that Mr Segundus fancied his red face now very visible and caused him to flush further.

"What... What is it?" asked Mr Segundus.

Childermass gestured with his head, as if he wished to be admitted into the room, and Mr Segundus, not at all thinking in his nervousness, foolishly stepped back to allow Childermass entry.

Once inside, Childermass closed the door softly behind himself, as one might do if they wished to speak about a delicate matter in private, and set his candle upon the chest of drawers nearest to him.

Poor Mr Segundus knew not what to do. He worried what Childermass thought of the room, he worried what Childermass might see in his face and, worst of all, he worried that his private piece was altogether too visible beneath his dressing gown. Indeed, Mr Segundus was desperate to check this last to make sure the skirts of his dressing gown were adjusted to cover his private piece properly, but he knew the gesture wouldn't go unnoticed. And so Mr Segundus made do with standing there nervously, his face surely by now very red, guiltily so.

And yet... And yet if Mr Segundus' face was red it wasn't the only one, for Childermass' face had some redness to it also. In fact, now that Mr Segundus could see him clearly, it looked as if Childermass were a little distracted. Why, he was wearing his nightshirt but had thrown his breeches on atop it and had not bothered with any other piece of clothing, not even stockings nor slippers; his ragged hair had a wilder look than it normally wore; and Childermass' eyes, in the light of the candle, were dark,

Childermass fixed Mr Segundus with a look and said (in a low voice, as if he did not wish to wake the other occupants of the house), "You must stop, sir."

Oh! Oh God! Mr Segundus felt as if he might tumble to the floor. With great strength, he remained still and standing.

"Stop, Mr Childermass?" asked Mr Segundus with trembling innocence. "I do not know what you mean."

Childermass gave Mr Segundus another look, though this was more incredulous than the last. "The magic you are performing," said Childermass. "You must stop it."

Mr Segundus fancied that his face was now burning as brightly as the candle itself. He affected a look of confusion. "But I have not been perfor..."

"I cannot sleep, sir!" said Childermass. He must have raised his voice more than he wished, for he then continued on in a quieter tone. "I haven't slept properly for _days_. Each spell makes me more and more..." He pushed both hands into his tangled hair and gave Mr Segundus a look of desperation.

"But your room is on the other side of the house," said Mr Segundus in a startled tone (not quite realising that this was perhaps more of an admission than he would have liked to have made).

"Yes it is," agreed Childermass, still clutching at his hair. "And I felt the magic from there. How could I not, with so many spells in a row, and such a..."

"I... I..." babbled Mr Segundus, taking a few steps back.

"It is maddening," continued Childermass, now gesturing with his arms. "How can you expect me to sleep? Days on end I have lain myself down only to feel such effects as you have been making. And now you start again and I must be tormented once more by lusts and sensations, trying to sleep while you are making merry and I cannot... I cannot _bear_ it. Not any more. You must stop."

"I... I... I..." said Mr Segundus. "I... I... Making merry? Why, I do not..."

In response to this attempted denial, Childermass merely huffed and gestured down at Mr Segundus' dressing gown where, as Mr Segundus had feared, the shape of his private piece was happily visible.

"Ah," said Mr Segundus in alarm, backing into the bedpost and gathering up the skirts of his dressing gown so as to hide the offending object the better.

Childermass sighed and some of the energy seemed to drain from him. "I do not judge, sir," he said. "I merely request that it stop." His cheeks were flushed. "For if I must suffer one more day beside you and one more night tormented by thoughts of you, I will surely lose my mind."

"You..." said Mr Segundus. "You..." He ventured a glance down and discovered that Childermass' breeches were not lying so flat against his person either. Suddenly Childermass' dark eyes and red face and ragged hair took on a new and surprising meaning. Looking back up, Mr Segundus saw that Childermass' eyes had followed him. "You..." said Mr Segundus again.

They regarded each other, making a tableau noticeable for its stillness but holding no charms as to composition: the one backed against the bedpost, dressing gown gathered up in front of himself and cheeks so red they looked painful; and the other beside the chest of drawers, hastily dressed, cuffs unbuttoned, and with hair that looked as if it had been engaged in a fight.

But the tableau lasted only for a moment, for then there was movement: a great rush of air and a slap of feet against the floorboards, and it wasn't necessarily possible to tell which party had caused such commotion first, only that they were now both crushed up together, first against the chest of drawers and then against the bedpost, lips on lips in what could have been called a kiss if it weren't so tremblingly distracted.

Childermass' hands were brushing the hair from Mr Segundus' temples (doing the work that Mr Segundus had set the spell to do earlier) and Mr Segundus was standing on his toes to reach Childermass' mouth, Childermass' jaw rough beneath his fingers.

They stumbled back into the bedpost again and the bed scraped loudly against the floor.

"Quiet," said Childermass against Mr Segundus' lips. "We must be quiet." He kissed Mr Segundus again, then looked to the door and muttered some words, which were followed by the click of the lock.

Mr Segundus really did tumble to the floor this time, or at least would have done had he not been pressed bodily against the bedpost. The sensation that rushed through him at Childermass' spell (for of course it was a spell; what else could it have been?) had been overwhelming in its intensity. Oh Lord! Is this what it felt like when such spells as Mr Segundus enjoyed were cast by another person?

Childermass was looking at him with dark eyes and an open mouth. "You felt it," said Childermass wonderingly. "You liked it." He slipped a hand through Mr Segundus' dressing gown and warm fingers pressed firmly against Mr Segundus' ribs. "You liked it." He pushed closer, laying hot kisses along Mr Segundus' jaw.

Mr Segundus gasped, for he was still reeling from the spell and did not know what to do about it (indeed, the only thing he did know was that he wished for Childermass to perform the same spell over and over until the end of his days). Yet then clarity returned and Mr Segundus found he did know what to do after all, for when another hand had sought its way inside his dressing down, to slide across his breast through his nightshirt, and when there came another press of lips to his jaw, he grabbed once more at Childermass' face and pulled his head up for a kiss.

The bed shuddered against the floor again.

"Too loud," gasped Mr Segundus and manoeuvred them away from the bedpost, which instantly resulted (with there being nothing more to hold them up) in he falling back onto the bed and Childermass landing on top of him. The bed screeched against the floor for a third time.

"Oh no," said Mr Segundus. Childermass above him appeared to be trying to right himself and wondering where he was. And so Mr Segundus cast a spell himself, being the spell he sometimes liked to use when he was engaged with his marble phallus and was utterly uncertain of the sounds he was making. That is to say: Mr Segundus cast a spell that caused all noises from within his bedchamber to be muted as soon as they left the room.

Now they need not worry about the complaints of the bed, but perhaps they then had another problem, for upon the casting of the spell Childermass had fallen back down upon Mr Segundus' breast with a groaning noise and now appeared (without necessarily being aware of it) to be pressing his hips firmly and repeatedly against Mr Segundus' knee.

"Oh. Oh. Oh," cried Mr Segundus, and did nothing else in response, appearing for all the world to be quite content just to lie there and take it.

After a moment or two Childermass seemed to come back to himself, for his erratic thrusting turned into something slower and more deliberate: a firm press of woollen breeches in a hot line from Mr Segundus' knee to his thigh.

"You have done some magic," said Childermass, looking down at Mr Segundus with a gaze that was very dark.

"I have," gasped Mr Segundus. "A silencing spell."

Childermass hummed. "I am now aware," he said, performing the same slow slide of his hips for a second time, "how lucky I have been that my room is on the other side of the house. For if I had been any closer, after that first night I would have been driven to have full carnal knowledge of you upon the breakfast table the very next morning.

Mr Segundus swallowed. "I would not have minded."

Childermass laughed, a rich, low sound that Mr Segundus could feel through his body. _Oh Lord._ And Mr Segundus pulled Childermass closer with arms and legs (he could not help himself), kissing at Childermass' face.

"I need you to fuck me," said Mr Segundus urgently between his kisses. "I need you to. That is, if it would please you to do so." He gasped again. "But if not..."

"Christ," said Childermass and shuddered hard enough that Mr Segundus felt it run through him. "Please me?" repeated Childermass, reaching beneath them and grabbing at Mr Segundus' buttocks through his dressing gown. "Please me?" he kissed up beneath Mr Segundus' jaw, his voice rough and low. "I have thought of nothing else for days."

"Oh!" Mr Segundus clutched his hands in Childermass' hair. "Me neither."

Childermass stilled at that (which was a surprising thing). He raised his head and gave Mr Segundus a red-cheeked look. "Truly?"

Mr Segundus looked back, confused that Childermass need ask. "Truly," said Mr Segundus. "Why else have I been engaging myself in this way every night?"

It was not possible to describe the noise that Childermass made then: it was a deep, desperate, rumbling thing and accompanied by both arms reaching further around Mr Segundus so as to drag him bodily across the bed until they were both in the middle of it.

This tumultuous movement now concluded, Childermass' urgency seemed to leave him. He pressed himself back down upon Mr Segundus, brought their lips together, and kissed Mr Segundus long and slow, lips and tongue, and for all the world acted as if he desired nothing else but to drive Mr Segundus giddy from this alone.

To be kissed so was, it must be admitted, pleasant (very pleasant, if we are to be honest), but Mr Segundus had been promised a fucking (indeed, he had already had a fucking earlier in the evening rudely interrupted) and he found himself wishing that they might make a start upon it. And so, while still kissing Childermass (for it was pleasant, as I have said) Mr Segundus thought to divest Childermass of his clothes.

Firstly Mr Segundus set to Childermass' nightshirt, pulling it in fistfuls from Childermass' back so that he might take it off over Childermass' head. Alas, Mr Segundus had calculated not for nightshirts being longer than normal shirts, nor for the fact that Childermass' breeches were still tight about his waist. The result was that soon the two of them found they must stop their kissing (and indeed their everything else) for the nightshirt had come far enough to cover Childermass' head in its entirety but would go no further.

"Mr Segundus..." came Childermass' muffled voice from within.

"John," corrected Mr Segundus, letting the nightshirt go and instead smoothing Childermass' back with his hands. "John. John. I am John."

"John, then," said the nightshirt. "I cannot see."

"No," admitted Mr Segundus. "It would not come off."

The nightshirt laughed at this, warm and rounded. Then it sat back on its knees and the nightshirt's collar was pulled back down to Childermass' throat, exposing a face with a very wicked grin and hair that... (I am afraid there was no hope at all for Childermass' hair).

Now Childermass' hands went to his breeches, unbuttoning them (rather hastily), and he climbed from the bed so that he might tug them down his legs.

Mr Segundus could not bear at all not to be a part of this disrobing, so he scrabbled to follow Childermass to the edge of the bed. Thus, while Childermass dropped his breeches down, Mr Segundus, getting up on his knees, again grabbed up fistfuls of Childermass' nightshirt and pulled it messily over Childermass' head until finally Childermass was free from the thing.

"Now then," said Childermass as he stepped out of his breeches and turned back to Mr Segundus. The lapels of Mr Segundus' dressing gown were pushed to Mr Segundus' shoulders by warm hands but Mr Segundus could let them go no further, for he found himself now confronted by Childermass' chest (broad, and covered with dark hair) and had discovered an urgent need to touch it.

Said chest rose and then fell beneath Mr Segundus' fingers and Mr Segundus leaned closer so he might reach out his tongue and taste it.

"Fuck," said the chest, and then the hands on Mr Segundus' lapels were more insistent and the dressing gown was being pulled down his arms. "You are wearing too many clothes," said Childermass beratingly.

Alas, Mr Segundus was then forced to distance himself from Childermass and sit back so that the dressing gown could be pushed from him (but not before he had swept his tongue across a brown nipple). Then he was being urged to his feet and his nightshirt was grabbed up from his knees and pulled over his head in a tumble of linen.

However, this distance from Childermass was not to last long, for as soon as Mr Segundus was free from the nightshirt and able to see once more he was met by Childermass (wearing a rather triumphant look upon his face) and found himself crowded back against the bed until he was forced to sit again.

"John," said Childermass, dropping to his knees before him, and then lips were pressed to Mr Segundus' shoulder and to his neck and to his jaw. One of Mr Segundus' hands was taken up and a wet tongue was landed upon his palm.

"Ah," said Mr Segundus stupidly as the heel of his palm was administered to with lips and tongue, warm and swirling, and then the meat of his thumb, and then his wrist, tongue dragging hot against the skin there, and Childermass was not looking at Mr Segundus at all, seemingly engaged in tasting all he could.

Both hands were treated in this way, and both wrists, before Mr Segundus had the wherewithal to say, "Wait," for while this was pleasant (toe-curlingly so) it was not what Mr Segundus wanted most, for as soon as Childermass had dropped to the floor Childermass' private piece, which was hard and red and much to be desired, had been removed from Mr Segundus' sight.

Therefore Mr Segundus now encouraged Childermass to stand so that his private piece might be at a more convenient height, and oh! to look at it! For it was dark and hard and flushed: crimson at the tip and brown at the base, emerging from hair as dark as that on Childermass' chest.

It was funny, was it not? that even though it had been over a decade since Mr Segundus had touched a man's private parts he did not desire them any the less. Childermass' skin was soft to the touch, and hot, and then was pulled away from Mr Segundus' grasp, for Childermass was kissing him again.

Mr Segundus groaned to be deprived so and he clutched at Childermass' shoulders as the kiss pressed him back to the bedclothes, but soon Mr Segundus was again able to reach down between them and brush his fingers against his prize.

Childermass shuddered and a warm hand splayed itself against Mr Segundus' thigh, then reached across to Mr Segundus' other thigh, and then, groping between them, pressed firmly against Mr Segundus' own private member.

"Oh," Mr Segundus put wet lips to Childermass' cheek. "Oh John."

Childermass groaned and kissed him harder, then pulled back and with clumsy hands urged Mr Segundus to move onto the mattress more fully. "On the bed," Childermass told him hoarsely. "On the bed. On the bed."

Mr Segundus did not need to be told more than once. He scrambled back and Childermass followed after and (heaven above!) to see the lean lines of Childermass' body! all flushed chest and black hair and strong thighs, his private piece hard and his eyes dark. Yet while Mr Segundus had for many years admired Childermass' movements (his sense of purpose and his intimate ease, as I have said beforehand), Childermass had none of those qualities now. He was instead clumsy in his haste, hands trembling, and attempting both to touch everything and kiss everything all at once.

A hand was placed upon Mr Segundus' ankle, and then his knee, and then Childermass came up the bed towards him, hands now on hip and waist and upper arm. They were kissing again, tongue and lips and oh how warm was Childermass! How delectable the feel of his limbs! And he smelled the way he tasted: of heat and skin and eagerness.

Mr Segundus reached down, seeking Childermass' private piece again and curling his hand around it, feeling the hair there, the shaft, the crown. And Mr Segundus' piece was caressed alike, with hot hands, rough and sweet. But then Childermass broke from the kiss and pulled back and Mr Segundus' piece was of a sudden left unattended.

Instead a thumb was pressed to Mr Segundus' lips, firmly, warmly, and when Mr Segundus drew in that thumb, past his teeth and into his mouth, Childermass' gaze grew very dark indeed.

The thumb was removed after some moments and replaced with a finger, and then two, and then three, all sliding hot and salty with sweat against Mr Segundus' tongue, and Childermass was by then breathing very fast, his own lips bitten with concentration and red with it.

This suckling of Childermass' fingers lasted for some time (some good amount of time) for Mr Segundus was enjoying the expression upon Childermass' face too much to stop, and Childermass, it seems, was utterly unable to pull away.

Eventually, though, pull away Childermass did, his fingertips wrinkled as they dragged for one last time against Mr Segundus' tongue, leaving Mr Segundus' chin wet in the process. Then Childermass sat back, urging Mr Segundus to spread his legs (which, by this point, Mr Segundus was only too happy to agree to).

The wet hand was placed between Mr Segundus' legs and cupped him there: palm against his testitcles and fingers hot against his buttocks.

"John," said Childermass and swallowed. "John, may I?"

"Please," gasped Mr Segundus, wiping his chin with the back of a hand. "Please, yes, please."

And so Childermass shifted his hand until his fingers were no longer cupping Mr Segundus' buttocks but probing wetly between them, and Mr Segundus' intimate place (his hole, that is) was pressed with one finger and then gently, wonderfully, breached.

Childermass made a choking sort of a noise. He was very red. His finger slid in deeper, knuckles pressing in, and he wore a look of surprise upon his face. "You are already slick," he said.

Ah. Mr Segundus had forgotten. Back when he had been engaged with his marble phallus (it felt so very long ago now!) he had used a spell of lubrication, and that spell, it seems, had not yet worn off. He told Childermass about the spell (though not about the phallus, for there are some things a gentleman ought not to admit to).

"Fuck, John," said Childermass, sliding his finger out and then back in again with a look of wonder upon his red face. He carefully added a second finger, and seemingly finding no resistance he added a third. His voice was barely able to utter any sound as he said, "You are very open."

Mr Segundus flushed hard. "Yes," he replied. "I have been thinking of you, as I have said."

"Fuck," said Childermass again. "Fuck. Fuck." He crawled up the bed and kissed Mr Segundus urgently, cradling his cheek with the one hand while the other resumed its business inside of Mr Segundus' person.

Mr Segundus groaned to be kissed so: to be breached by Childermass' tongue on the one part and breached by Childermass' fingers on the other. Such a slick slide of them both! And Childermass, though not necessarily possessing the coordination to perform both actions to a satisfactory degree, was nevertheless enthusiastic.

By now the fingers were pushing in further, pressing up and dragging in a way that made Mr Segundus grow more breathless by degrees. He spread his legs the wider and broke the kiss so he might instead press his lips to Childermass' cheek, his temple, his eye.

"I am ready. I am ready," mumbled Mr Segundus between kisses. "I have been ready since you entered the room. You must fuck me. You must."

Childermass made another desperate, choking noise. He lifted his head and gave Mr Segundus a very flushed look indeed. But this did not last for long, for he soon removed his fingers from within Mr Segundus' person and sat back upon his knees, and those fingers were now squeezed clumsily along the length of Childermass' private piece, slicking it from haired base to crimson crown.

Such a sight! Mr Segundus' breath stalled in his throat and for a moment he could do nothing else save watch. But then he remembered his purpose and scrabbled on the bed to prepare himself, snatching up his pillow and dragging it down so that he might lay it beneath his hips, his intimate places now exposed yet further and his private member straining shamefully up towards the bed's canopy.

Once ready (and biting his lips) Mr Segundus watched as Childermass finished slicking himself. Then Childermass looked to Mr Segundus with a smile upon his flushed, red face.

Mr Segundus spread his legs the wider in return, his toes curling into the blankets.

Yet Childermass now seemed to lose all urgency. His smile turned long and sly and he placed a hot hand upon Mr Segundus' knee. Surprisingly, this knee was not caressed but was instead raised, bodily, a second hand beneath Mr Segundus' calf pushing it upwards until Mr Segundus' foot was in the air and Childermass was pressing his lips, messily, to Mr Segundus' ankle.

Oh! Oh! Oh!

Childermass' tongue swirled wetly across the ankle again, and then again, and then made its way up Mr Segundus' shin.

Poor Mr Segundus, who was now somehow redder in the face than before and breathing very heavily, clenched his hands in the blankets at his sides. "Oh please," he babbled. "Please, I need you to fuck me, please."

And Childermass, though he was eyeing Mr Segundus with a look that could only be described as impish, decided perhaps to take pity upon him, for the leg was lowered. Instead Childermass now placed himself between Mr Segundus' thighs, pressing close and warm, and with a guiding hand presented his private piece to the place where Mr Segundus wanted it most.

There was no more waiting. Childermass moved and there was a pushing and a stretching and oh, oh, can one possibly describe what it is like (what it _feels_ like) to be breached by Childermass' piece (by his cock) when one has wanted it for so long? (Perhaps one cannot. Perhaps such a description is beyond us.)

"John," Childermass was saying. "John. John." He pressed in further and further until he was fully seated. " _John_." His hands were on the outsides of Mr Segundus' thighs, the fingers of one hand slick and the fingers of the other damp with sweat, and then both hands were hot on Mr Segundus' waist.

And oh the stretch of it! Oh that burning fullness! It was not like marble at all; it was hot and long-desired and Childermass was moving, pulling out and then pushing back in and Mr Segundus could feel every inch of that long slide.

By now Mr Segundus had tipped his head back and was groaning at the bed's canopy (he could do nothing else) and there was a fumbling movement followed by a hand atop his, clenching hard.

"Look at you," gasped Childermass. "Look at you. Look at you." After which for some moments neither of them said anything more, nor made any further sounds save that which must attend such a slick conjunction as theirs.

Mr Segundus, by this point, had come a little more to his senses and had discovered that in addition to the dizzying gratification of knowing that Childermass' cock was inside of him (how he had longed for it!) he was now beginning to feel those pleasures which such a fucking will produce: a coiling, curling, building sensation inside of him that made him bite his lip and breathe very heavily.

Yet Mr Segundus knew (for he had fucked himself enough times to discover it) that the peak he wanted and was now beginning to yearn for would not come through fucking alone: he must have stimulation to his piece as well, which stimulation could come from a hand if there were one free to conduct the business.

But at this moment a free hand there was not. Childermass' hands had once again curled about Mr Segundus' waist in a very pleasant way and Mr Segundus did not wish to remove them; meanwhile Mr Segundus' hands were running up and down the length of Childermass' forearms and Mr Segundus did not wish to stop this either.

And so what to do? Well, breathless and biting his lips yet further, Mr Segundus fancied that magical stimulation would serve him very well. Thus Mr Segundus swallowed and (with some difficulty, for his voice was more hoarse than he would like) uttered a spell to cool the bedclothes beneath him.

This spell did not have entirely the effect which Mr Segundus had predicted, for while Mr Segundus did indeed feel that invigorating sensation (the rushing, the tingling, etc., etc.) which normally came from such magic, the spell also, it seemed, had the effect of causing Childermass to cry out in a very guttural way and press down upon Mr Segundus to fuck him a great deal harder than he had been before.

Mr Segundus cried out too (and surely we cannot blame him for this).

"You..." gasped Childermass. His hair was wet against Mr Segundus' neck and his chest was hot against Mr Segundus' own, rising and falling rapidly. "That was magic."

Poor Mr Segundus, who found he had not the wherewithal to speak at that moment, nodded.

Childermass raised his head a little and looked down at him darkly. "Do it again."

"I..." said Mr Segundus, but found he still did not possess the faculties for speech, and so he made a gesture with one hand which he knew would make the rushlight upon the mantelpiece glow with greater strength.

"Oh Christ," said Childermass through hissed teeth and kissed Mr Segundus thoroughly: a mess of wet lips upon Mr Segundus' own.

Mr Segundus could barely catch his breath through this kiss, for the sensations of the magic and of Childermass' cock pressing into him were too keen: the combination darkly pleasurable and coiling in his limbs. Yet Mr Segundus applied himself to the business of kissing as much as he was able, and with his hand he again made a gesture, only this time to darken the rushlight, then to brighten it again, and then to darken it once more: three spells in giddying succession.

Childermass broke the kiss and growled. "Fuck," he said, breathlessly. "Fuck. Fuck." And with his private parts he proceeded to do just as he had exclaimed, raising Mr Segundus' hips from the pillow so as to gain better purchase.

A choked and gasping, " _Yes_ ," was all that Mr Segundus could utter in response. His hands were clenching in the bedclothes, his legs wrapped as best they could around Childermass' waist, his toes curling. The bed creaked beneath him.

Oh, Mr Segundus did not think he would last much longer. He had already been close when they had started (had he not?) and now the pleasure was building to such a point that it was almost unbearable. He clenched his teeth.

Another spell upon the rushlight by Mr Segundus caused the bed to creak again in their enthusiasm, quite violently this time if we are to be honest. Yet this creaking was, unexpectedly, followed by another sound: it was the "thunk" of something hard falling to the floor beneath the bed, followed by a brief and uneven rolling noise.

After, oh, two or three rolls perhaps, the noise stopped and Mr Segundus and Childermass, panting, looked at each other.

Childermass, who had paused in his thrusting (oh cruel pause!) turned and looked over the edge of the bed to the floor.

What Childermass saw there we can only guess, but it may do us well to remember what Mr Segundus had placed beneath the bed some little time before, and how such a thing may have been unable to remain secure upon its blanketed resting place during the violence of a bed's rocking.

"Oh," said Childermass. He looked to Mr Segundus.

Mr Segundus blushed.

Childermass was also rather red in the face when he said, "You have been busier than I thought."

And what was Mr Segundus to say to that? "I..." said Mr Segundus. "I have."

"No wonder then..." Childermass now resumed his thrusting, only it was slow this time, toe-curlingly slow: an obscenely carnal slide. "...that you had no difficulty taking _me_." He swallowed and looked back to the floor. "Indeed, you could take a man a good deal larger than I." Childermass shook his head as he turned to Mr Segundus. "I am impressed."

Mr Segundus blushed harder. "I do not want a man a good deal larger though," he said. "I want you."

Childermass laughed warmly, apparently delighted with such a response. He brought one of Mr Segundus' hands up so that he might press a kiss smilingly to the inside of his wrist.

Mr Segundus watched him. "Will you do some magic now?"

Childermass' smile widened. He gave Mr Segundus a sly look. "I?"

"Please."

And so Childermass set down Mr Segundus' hand. For a moment he seemed merely to concentrate on rolling his hips in that same slow, heated way; but then he muttered something under his breath, some unknown something which... Mr Segundus gasped.

Hot! Hot, disorientating pleasure! It _burned_ through Mr Segundus. It tore through him. It flared up, sparks on dry tinder, and Mr Segundus was already engulfed in it, limbs to toes to fingertips, aflame, alight.

"Oh God!" Mr Segundus cried out, clinging onto Childermass' for dear life. (Oh God! Oh God!) Mr Segundus' breath had stalled but now returned in a sob, a great, shuddering gasp, oh, and it felt so...! In every joint and every sinew it... Oh, it was too good! It was too much! He was so close! So...!

Indeed, so close to his end was Mr Segundus that it took him longer than it ought to have done to realise that the room around them had been plunged into darkness, for Childermass' spell had put out all the lights.

Childermass was panting hard. "Yes," he said urgently and thrust again, hard and hot and good in the most visceral way. Then he muttered something else and a little of the light returned, but Mr Segundus' senses did not.

Oh Christ! Mr Segundus whimpered. He pushed back against the bed, shoulders pressing into the mattress, face red, chest red.

There was another spell, and another, and the rush of pleasure was so great, from the spells and from Childermass' fucking and from Childermass' cock, that Mr Segundus barrelled into his climax, over the edge and into the oblivion of ecstasy, his seed torn from his private piece and he gasping, gasping, gasping as if he might never breathe again.

Slowly, oh Mr Segundus was shuddering a great deal, a great great deal, mouth open and jaw tight, but slowly, slowly he began to return to himself. When he did and had some semblance of thought again he discovered that he was being fucked very hard, which was by no means an unpleasant thing.

"Look at you. Look at you. Fuck," Childermass was saying, his hands trembling hard upon Mr Segundus' thighs.

The bed creaked once, twice more, Childermass' cock dragged wonderfully against the sensitive place within Mr Segundus' person and then ah! Childermass was crying out and shaking and pressing as close into Mr Segundus as he might get.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck it. Fuck," said Childermass eloquently.

Panting heavily, Childermass shook some more and then collapsed down onto Mr Segundus with all the weight and elegance of a side of beef.

For several moments they merely lay there and breathed together, the both of them, with Childermass' piece still ensconced within Mr Segundus. (And Mr Segundus found that he did not at all wish to remove it.)

"Well," said Childermass eventually, his hoarse voice muffled in Mr Segundus' shoulder, "that was a surprise."

Mr Segundus turned his head, but could only see Childermass' ear. "Not an unpleasant one, I hope."

"Pleasant," clarified Childermass. "Very pleasant." Then he made a groaning noise as he rolled off of Mr Segundus, sliding out of him as he did so.

Childermass' face, when it was revealed, was very red and his hair... (well, we have already heard that there was no hope for his hair), but his eyes were warm and on his mouth a smile.

"I am glad," said Mr Segundus, smiling also. "I am very glad."

Laughing, Childermass reached down to clasp one of Mr Segundus' hands in his own. "Tell me," said Childermass, "have you been using that thing every night?"

"The uh..." Mr Segundus hesitated. "...the marble?"

Childermass' smile had turned lascivious. "Yes."

"Ah." Mr Segundus flushed. "Not every night, no. Not when the school term is..." he paused then, and considered what Childermass was truly asking. "Ah, but for most nights of your visit, yes."

Childermass' smile widened greatly, but what he thought about such a statement he did not say. Instead, what he said was this: "It is a clever thing, a spell for lubrication. I have not heard of the like before."

Mr Segundus bit his lip. "I invented it." He looked to Childermass. "Some while ago now."

But Childermass did not say what he thought of this statement either; he merely put a warm hand upon Mr Segundus cheek and smiled at him for a great long time.

Mr Segundus, for his part, smiled very much in return. How could he help himself? (He could not.)

Eventually the hand was removed and Childermass looked down between them. "Why am I still hard?" he asked.

"Oh," said Mr Segundus. "That will be the magic. I find it can tend to leave one rather... keen to continue."

"Ah." Childermass looked back to him with dark eyes. "And are you?"

(What a question! Was Mr Segundus keen for Childermass to fuck him again? What other answer could there possibly be?)

"Yes," said Mr Segundus. "Most certainly yes."

Thus, laughing and hooking an arm about Mr Segundus' waist, Childermass dragged him closer.

Dear readers, I need not tell you how they spent the rest of their night (and, indeed, ought we to ask? Have we not, for our prurient pleasure, seen quite enough already?) But it might please you to know that Childermass and Vinculus' visit that August lasted longer than was usual for them, and they happened to return to Starecross Hall more frequently thereafter. Doubtless these frequent returns were so that Childermass and Mr Segundus might work together often on the text of Vinculus' book. Yet if you were, in the cool of the night, to stand in the garden and look up to the windows of Mr Segundus' bedchamber, you might sometimes see a flickering, as if from a rushlight that did not know whether it ought to burn fast or slow.


End file.
